The Ron Weasley Alphabet
by veritaserumkills
Summary: Hermione's brain is wired to think about Ron as often as possible. She can't help that certain words set her mind on that track. Set during HBP. A chapter for every letter of the alphabet. Drabble/oneshots. Rating may change.
1. A is for Abstinence

A/N: Just a new little project of mine so I can shower the world with Ron and Hermione oneshots and drabble as often as I please. Half-Blood Prince gives me all the feelings. I need to express them.

**The Ron Weasley Alphabet**

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><p><strong>A is for Abstinence<strong>

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><p>"Abstinence. Can you believe it?"<p>

"I think McGonagall's trying to tell you something, Romilda."

"Oh, shut up. It's the stupidest password we've ever had."

"It's certainly easy to remember."

"It's certainly not something I want to think about every time we come back to the common room."

"You do realize the word isn't just used in reference to _sex_?"

Hermione clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth in annoyance and shifted to a more comfortable position in her arm chair by the fire. She was very much over girls like Romilda Vane. Day in and day out, they seemed to follow her, to taunt her. They talked about the newest shade of eye shadow they had bought, whined about how pointless their assignments were, and lusted over the male population of Hogwarts.

She could hardly blame them. Okay, so she didn't understand what was so important about G_alleon_ being a far superior a shade to _Golden __Snitch_ on brown eyes. She also found the majority of her assignments to be, at the very least, productive. But Hermione was at a co-ed boarding school, and she was surrounded by teenagers. Of course they were going to talk about their peers in a…_romantic_ manner. What bothered her about it was that most girls didn't seem to have much of a filter. No standards, no appreciation for the opposite sex. They seemed to think any guy who looked their way was adorable. Anytime a boy said something rude, he was the bad boy they'd love to rebel with. And if a guy played Quidditch? They were putty just _talking_ about him.

Within moments, Romilda and her friend had disappeared upstairs to the girls' dormitories. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief and returned to her text. Well, she tried to. She was successful until-

"Won-Won, you've got frosting-here, I'll get it."

Hermione glanced up just in time to witness Lavender using her tongue to remove the offending substance away from the corner of Ron's mouth. She looked away before it could be of more help to her ex-best friend. _Breathe_, she reminded herself. _Breathe. __Swallow. __Count __to __ten. __Whatever __you __do, __don__'__t __throw __up__…__whatever __you __do, __don__'__t __cry._ It was silly that she felt this way every single time she saw them together.

As if matters couldn't possibly get any worse, Hermione had just begun a fresh paragraph when she heard, "…doesn't matter how I know. I just do."

"It does, too. I have to make sure you have a reliable source."

Romilda and her friend had returned with book bags filled to the brim with text books and parchment. They sat on the sofa across from the obscene couple, just a few feet away from Hermione_.__If __they __come __anywhere __near __my __armchair-_

She paused to mentally correct herself. It wasn't really her armchair. If it belonged to anyone, it would be Ron. It had been his favorite as far back as she could remember. It was right next to the fireplace, perfect for cold nights, which happened more often than not during the school year. Lately, she had taken to sitting in it every opportunity she got. When the seat wasn't occupied by Ron, it seemed to be occupied by her. She hadn't seen anyone else in it for weeks, maybe not since the start of the term. She remembered with a smirk the first time she had sat there.

It was after one of the first Quidditch practices since break. Hermione had strolled into the common room with her mind on the upcoming prefect meeting that night, not to mention the three essays she had begun and couldn't quite seem to finish effectively. She needed a change of scenery, as she had spent nearly all of last term in the library, and she needed to be as far away from the younger students as possible. She resigned to an armchair close to the fire and proceeded to pull out one of her many essays for proofreading.

She had only been sitting for a matter of minutes when she heard the tell-tale giggles approaching. Irritated, she glanced up to glare at the intruders. As she did so, she saw that Ron had stopped just a few feet away. He was watching her with a very confused expression on his face. After a moment of her own confusion, Hermione realized where she was-in _his_ armchair. A few months ago, Ron might have sparked a row or even squeezed in next to her, claiming she owed him for causing him such an inconvenience. But that night, he simply stared before Lavender dragged him away to a free loveseat.

Hermione had watched him go, feeling slightly embarrassed. She never sat near the fire unless was with Harry and Ron. Of course, the one night she neglected library she would end up in his seat. He must have thought she was playing some sort of game with him. She felt him glancing over at her occasionally for the rest of the night.

She had since taken to sitting there every time she found herself in the common room. It was the first time that she was allowing herself to feel without guilt since their falling out. She missed him. Yes, he had wronged her, and maybe she had every reason to be angry at him…but she still missed him. If there were ever doubts that this was his seat, they had been washed away the first night she had sat there. His scent seemed to be sewn into the cushions. Just sitting in his chair made her feel his presence. It made her miss him a little less.

It was hard to think about missing him, however, when he was sitting just a few yards away with that tart he called his girlfriend. It only made Hermione angry and upset. She had a very hard time missing him when he was making her feel rotten. Romilda and her gossip didn't help matters.

"Won-Won, you can finish this later. It's not due for another two days!"

Hermione was also very much over girls like Lavender Brown. She pulled her book up in front of her face and glanced over the edge. Was Ron…doing his homework? _Early_? Her eyes found a very irate Ron grasping at the air just ahead of where Lavender was holding his essay at bay. "No, no. Not until you kiss me." She let out a high-pitched giggle that chilled Hermione like nails on a chalkboard.

"Lav, come on, I've got to finish," Ron whined. "I've got practice the next two nights, and with prefect stuff, I won't have any time to-"

"Just one," Lavender sang. "One little kiss and I'll let you have it back." Ron sighed and granted Lavender her wish. Unfortunately, Lavender got rather carried away, and Hermione looked down again, but not before she caught a glimpse of that damn tongue _again_.

"Lavender, seriously, stop. Give me my paper back."

"You're no fun tonight." Hermione chanced another look and was delighted to see that Lavender was removing herself from the red-head with a scowl on her face. "Fine, I'm going to find Parvati. If you need anything-" She stopped to smile slyly and tugged at his tie. Ron grimaced. "Well, you know where I'll be." She pranced away in search of her friend and Hermione turned her attention back to Ron.

He sighed in frustration and loosened his tie. Hermione noted that he had neglected the top few buttons on his shirt. His creamy white chest peaked out just above his low-hanging tie. She stared at the skin, admiring it from afar. Ron stretched and yawned, and as he did so, his shirt rode up just ever so slightly…she caught the top bit of fabric from his boxers and moved her eyes up, taking advantage of his temporary position to see even more skin. She could feel her jaw go lax. His abdomen-what she could see of it, at least-was incredibly toned.

"Don't forget the bloody password," Romilda called out to her friend. Hermione snapped out of her daze and glanced over at the girls on the sofa. The one was packing away her supplies.

"I won't," she grumbled to Romilda. "Because I, unlike you, think it's a lovely idea on McGonagall's part." She swung her bag over her shoulder, but Romilda wasn't finished with her yet.

Hermione scowled and looked back at her book. She had to agree with the girl; it was good of McGonagall to remind her students that they were here to learn and not for a hormone exhibition. Even something as subtle as the password was sure to remind the students of the rules. Speaking of, Hermione checked her watch. She only had another hour until the prefects meeting, and then she was on patrol duty for an hour after that. She groaned and turned her attention back to the text.

She had barely begun the next sentence when Ron cleared his throat. Unable to resist, her eyes slid up and she found her mouth gaping once again. His tie had already been undone and his shirt untucked the last time she'd looked, but now he was running his fingers through his hair. The already unkempt locks settled in every which direction, giving him…well, what, according to the girls she shared a dorm with, could only be described as _sex __hair_.

Hermione gulped as the term flashed across her mind. She understood the term better now than she ever had before. Unbidden visions of his hair and many other ways it could come to this style, all of which involved her and a very empty classroom a few floors below, invaded her head. She shook it back and forth, as though she was trying to shoo them away like flies.

"I'll be back by curfew," the girl a few feet away told Romilda as she gathered the last of her things into her hands. "It's simply too loud to concentrate in here."

"If by loud you mean crowded with attractive boys, then, yes, it is." Hermione never thought she would find herself agreeing with Romilda so readily. "Of course, you have to welcome distractions sometimes. I know _I_ do."

"Of course _you_ do."

There was a snort and Hermione looked up, abandoning all pretense of reading. Ron shook his head at the younger girls and looked away, locking eyes with Hermione in the process. She felt her breath catch but willed herself not to show it. They stared awkwardly for a few long moments before he grinned sheepishly and returned to his essay with red ears.

Hermione's entire body was flooded with heat. Here he was, looking absolutely disheveled, and then he had the nerve to go and look _bashful_? Something about the scene before her had absolutely captivated a side of herself that she did not particularly like showing the world. His muscular forearms flexed as he added to his parchment. If she had not already been drooling, she must have been leaking saliva by now. Her eyes traveled along his body, admiring it bit by bit, all the way up to-

He licked his lips. His tongue traveled all the way around the edge of his mouth in an antagonizing, long motion. What wouldn't she give to be those lips right then and-

This was her undoing. She slammed her book shut much louder than she had meant to, causing both of the girls, Ron, and a few others to look in her direction. "Oh, dear God," she muttered under her breath as she shoved the book into her bag and yanked on the zipper. If she hadn't been so flustered, it might have taken her half as much time just to pack up her bag. She swung it on one of her shoulders as she hurried out of the room, trying desperately to catch her breath.

"Well, I'm out," the girl said as she began to follow Hermione out of the common room at a much slower pace.

"Don't forget the password," Romilda called after them.

Hermione sighed. That would hardly be a problem for her, seeing as she was beginning to agree with Romilda.

Abstinence was definitely over rated.

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><p>AN: If you have suggestions for any letter of the English alphabet, they would be greatly appreciated. 3

I've got B, but C is coming up, and it's a bit tricky...


	2. B is for Bloody

A/N: HUGE thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter and alerted/favorited/whatever-ed this story! Cookies to you all! MWAH! Hope I don't disappoint!

I'm on break for a few weeks before the semester starts so I will hopefully be updating everything much more often. For those of you who read _One More Time_, I have a word document open as I type this, ready to be unleashed by tomorrow (Monday) night. For the brave, darling few who have stumbled upon _Something Like a Love Story_-I might actually have that up and running within the next week (fingers crossed!). And I actually have an idea brewing for the next chapter of this. Progress, folks.

This isn't my best work, but...I still like it. Yes, I know Hermione is not someone we would expect to swear. She is, however, someone susceptible to blind rage. So we will chalk this chapter up to that (and the influence of dear Won-Won, of course). That being said, ENJOY!

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><p><strong>B is for Bloody<strong>

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><p>Hermione loved her Muggle family. Really, she did. Sure, at times they could be a bit…abrasive. Or snobby. Or just downright ignorant. But, all the same, they were family, and she loved them. The only problem was that she often had to remind herself that she did.<p>

"RYAN, CATCH!"

Hermione lunged from her chair just in time to intercept one of her parents' French vases before it hit the floor just short of Ryan. The six-year-old brunette's smile fell and his outstretched arms fell back to his sides and Hermione returned the valuable to the cabinet it belonged on (albeit several shelves higher than its original spot).

"Hey," whined Owen, the five year old blonde who had instigated the game of vaseball. By the time Hermione turned around, the smoke was practically visible coming out of his ears and his hands were on his hips. Ryan was scowling at her from directly behind him.

"Boys, this is a very expensive vase." Their faces did not change. "From France." Their scowls only deepened. "It's made of glass." She'd found the magic word. They both immediately looked repentant and mumbled apologies before scampering off into the kitchen. Hermione sighed and returned to her chair. She was ready to get back to _A __Brief __Review __of __the __American __Revolution_ (or, rather, _Hogwarts , __a __History_ under the dust jacket of one of her father's old history texts) and escape the uninteresting environment of her relatives for another hour.

"What's this nonsense?"

"_Hey!__"_ Hermione screeched as an older boy whisked her book away.

"This looks bloody boring," he remarked as he flipped through the pages.

"Mark, _give __it __back_." Hermione lunged for it, but her cousin pulled his arm up just in time.

"Hermione, I can tell you're an only child," Mark said in a sing-song voice. "You need to learn to share. Bloody hell."

Hermione froze and glared at her _dear, __sweet_ cousin whom she was sure she _sincerely_ loved in some secret, hidden part of her heart. But at the moment, she was _not_ in the mood, and his language was _not_ helping the situation.

"I swear to God, Mark, if you don't give me my book back this instant, you're going to regret it."

Mark gasped dramatically and put his free hand to his chest. "Oh, no, little 'Mione's gonna beat me up. However will I manage?" He snickered and turned his back to her as he pulled her book back from the air and resumed skimming. "What's got your knickers in a twist?"

There were several things that had her "knickers in a twist" and none of them were things she wanted to disclose to her immature relative. For one, she was surrounded by Muggles, which meant absolutely no magic for the entire day. Secondly, she was about to have herself discovered over a book with moving pictures (though, she _could_ always confound him…). Thirdly, she was going through womanly woes. And last, but most certainly far from least, a good portion of her mind was dwelling on _the __Ron __problem_.

And the fact that Mark was using he-who-must-not-be-mentioned's favorite curse word _in__every__other__statement_ was driving her over the edge. It was enough to have one prat running around with it constantly in his mouth. Having a second prat spitting it at her during what was supposed to be her break from all things Ron Weasley was crossing far beyond the line of her sanity.

"Mark, what are you doing now?" Jack asked as he appeared from behind Hermione. He stood there with his arms crossed and smirked at the both of them, making no move to help either party. It was at times like these that Hermione desperately hated being the only girl in her family.

"Hermione was reading some bloody awful history book," Mark chuckled as he snapped it shut. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief and reached for it again, but Mark held it just out of her reach. "So I took it. Holidays are a time for _family_."

"Oh, I couldn't agree more," Jack said, now enlightened. "Carry on, then. It's always fun to watch Hermione struggle."

Jack and Mark were brothers. Their favorite hobby, especially during the holiday season, was picking on Hermione. It was odd; they reminded her a bit of Fred and George. Except that they weren't ginger. Or very clever. Or interesting in the slightest bit. It was a pity that Hermione was trying so hard to retrieve her book, or she would have taken a moment to marvel over the fact that she _actually_ _missed_ the Weasley twins.

"Shut up, Jack," Hermione hissed. "Mark, my book-"

He looked like he was going to give in when Jack threw in, "Don't give her the bloody book! You've got a point to prove, Mark. You'd better bloody well prove it!"

That. Damn. Word.

_"I bet I failed that bloody charms exam."_

_"It would have been fine if Snape wasn't such a bloody git all the time."_

_"Bloody hell, Hermione, give a bloke a break. It's not due for another week."_

"I'm not gonna give her the bloody book, Jack, so just-"

And then Hermione snapped.

"Stop saying that _bloody __word!__"_ Hermione shrieked. Jack and Mark ended their banter and stared. In the past, she would have just walked away or, in the early days, gone to the adults. Never once had she completely cracked.

"Uh…which-?"

"You _bloody_ well _know_ which _bloody_ word I'm _bloody_ talking about," she yelled. "I swear, if you _bloody_ use it one more _bloody_ time-" She paused and yanked her beloved book from Mark's hands and used it to punctuate every word with a blow to whichever area he was stupid enough to leave exposed. _"__You. __Will. __Bloody. __Regret. __It.__"_

With that, she stormed out of the house and onto the porch. She realized once she had settled on the swing that it was much colder than she had estimated and rubbed her jumper-clad arms to warm herself. She finally decided her best bet would be to start reading and ignore the weather until someone came to fetch her. She had only been outside for about five minutes and read the entire passage on the Great Hall's enchanted ceiling before Mr. Granger joined her. He put her jacket on her shoulders and rested his arm on the back of the swing. It was a few more minutes before either of them spoke.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Alright."

"They're just so…so…"

"Bloody annoying?" Hermione was about to unleash a new wave of fury when she glanced up and found her father chuckling.

"Yes," she agreed. "_So_ bloody annoying. Almost as bloody annoying as _that __bloody __word._"

Mr. Granger frowned. "I don't get it. I've said 'bloody' as far back as I can remember around you, probably much earlier than I should have, and you've never had a problem with it before."

"Well, you know, too much of a good thing." She sighed. "Ron says it. _All __the __bloody __time_."

Mr. Granger's eyes twinkled in understanding. "Ah, he-who-must-not-be-mentioned-over-the-holiday. What's all that about, anyway?"

Hermione fiddled with the dog eared pages of her book. "He-he's dating this girl. And she's an absolute idiot. And they…all they ever do is snog in public. It's really obnoxious, and we haven't talked in ages."

"And this is all just because he's dating an idiot? Hermione, if you stop talking to people every time they date an idiot-"

"He was supposed to be my date to the Christmas party," she blurted before she could stop herself. "He was supposed to be. I asked him and I thought…I thought it was clear that I meant…well, I wanted it to be more than friends, Dad. And I thought he understood that. And then he started acting really moody, and then we had a row, and next thing I know, he's snogging that-that-"

"I see," Mr. Granger intervened. "And you haven't bothered to talk to him about it?"

"He knows how I feel," Hermione persisted. "He has to. He snogs her whenever I'm around. And even if I'm reading too much into it, he's still being a prick. He mocks me in class and makes no effort to talk to me at all. He doesn't want to be my friend right now. And I don't even know what I'm supposed to have done." She sighed and leaned against her father's shoulder. "And yet…"

"And yet?"

"I miss him. Terribly. And I hate myself for it."

"Oh, Hermione," Mr. Granger sighed. He took off his glasses and wiped them on his jumper. "It sounds to me like you've been bitten by the love bug."

Hermione scowled but did not waste energy denying it. "I hate the love bug."

"You won't for long," Mr. Granger promised. "Your time will come soon enough. Trust me. You'll be eating those words. Being in love…it's bloody brilliant."

_"That was bloody brilliant, Hermione..."_

Hermione shivered and looked up at her father. "If you say so, Dad."

"I do."

"Then I'll take your word for it." She sat up and kissed his cheek. "Can we go inside? We'll get frostbite if we sit out here much longer."

"Absolutely. Your mother's got dinner on the table, anyway." Mr. Granger patted his daughter on the knee and pulled her up from the swing. "Now, be kind to your cousins. Remember, not everyone's as brilliant as you are." Hermione sighed and nodded before she followed her father back into the house. Mark was standing in the dining room doorway and opened his mouth when he caught sight of them. Hermione glowered at him.

"Not another _bloody_ word, Mark, _I __swear_..."

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><p>AN: Success? Failure? Ah, well. C is for...the idea that I actually have for the next chapter. XOXO

-VK


	3. C is for Checkmate

Gosh, I suck. I really, truly do. I'm going to do my very best to start updating more regularly. School is a pain and I'm not the Hermione I used to be, unfortunately.

I'm not abandoning any of my fics; I just need you all to know that.

ON WITH THE SHOW.

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><p><strong>C is for…<strong>

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><p>"Checkmate."<p>

Harry clucked his tongue and scratched his head. "We've only been playing for five minutes! How'd you get me that quickly?"

Hermione glanced up as she shoved her arithmancy text out of site. Ron was shrugging, despite the proud glow on his face.

"Better luck next time, mate." He glanced down at his watch and frowned. Hermione felt a new emotion spread through her (was it relief? disappointment?) as she realized that he dreaded prefect duties as much as she did these days. "I've gotta get going. Maybe by the time I'm back, you'll be whipped into shape."

"Yes, I'm sure I'll become a chess master with years worth of experience while you're off on your rounds," Harry remarked dryly. "Definitely see that happening, right after I put Bellatrix Lestrange back in Azkaban."

"That's it, Harry, dream big," Ron chuckled as he stood. "I'll catch up with you later."

"See ya."

Ron was nearly to the Fat Lady when Harry's eyes met Hermione's. The latter pair appeared fearful. "What?" Harry asked. Hermione gave him a pointed look. "Oh, come on. It's just Ron." He certainly wasn't helping. "Hermione, you're going to be late."

Hermione sighed and nodded. "Right. I'll see you later." She made her way to the portrait hole, feeling the tension mount in her gut with each step.

When she exited the common room, she was taken aback by the site of Ron leaning back against the wall, waiting for her. He glanced up just long enough to make sure it was her and pushed away from the brick. Hermione bit her bottom lip and trailed along just slightly behind him.

They went on like that for several minutes. It wasn't until the reached the west wing of the fifth floor that either of them said a word. "Erm…" Ron began, scratching the back of his head. He stopped and Hermione did the same before he looked back at her awkwardly. "So…shouldn't we be…um…"

Hermione's heart seemed to pause for a moment. Was Ron…apologizing? Was he going to clear the air? As angry as she was, she knew she would welcome a cease fire. The sooner they were friends again, the sooner she could stop being so sad. And the sooner she could get in her two cents about Lavender. She liked to believe that, being one of his best friends, she had a bit of pull. As soon as he apologized, all it would just take a quick conversation about how irritating-

"…doing…ya know…prefect stuff?"

And then her heart-begrudgingly- beat itself back to life. "Oh," she gasped, completely lost. The layer of ice that her nerves had melted in anticipation of their rounds returned suddenly. She found herself angry and glaring all over again. "Of course," she threw out icily.

Her attitude caught and Ron stiffened. "Fine."

They took their time peering into abandoned classrooms and broom cupboards to check for any students out past curfew. Luckily, they found none and were able to return back to the common room fairly quickly. Hermione was just considering passing Ron up when he said, "You know, I don't even know I'm supposed to have done."

Hermione stopped just as he did, still a few steps behind him. He waited a few moments for a response before he turned to face her. "Well?"

She stared at him blankly. "Well, what?"

Ron snorted and rolled his eyes. "Whatever." He took a few steps backwards and started to turn back around when Hermione realized she wasn't finished.

"You can't just open the floor for discussion and not explain, you know." He stopped and stared at her. "How can you expect an answer and get angry when I don't give you one if I've got no idea-"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," Ron snapped. "Don't play dumb. It doesn't suit you."

Hermione snorted and bit back a few sharp retorts before she found one that felt right. "You're right. I'd forgotten that it's _your_ part to play." She could have sworn he growled. "Well, isn't it? You act like you don't know what it is you've done wrong, when-"

"All I know," Ron said, overpowering her voice with his, "is that one second we're friends, and the next you're sending your stupid birds after me. That hurt, you know." He held up the backs of his still marked hands.

"They'll heal," Hermione sneered unsympathetically. "You can't tell me you've forgotten what you did-"

"I can't forget if I've never-"

"She's only wrapped around you every other second."

Ron rolled his eyes. "So you're jealous, is that it? I'm finally happy and I've finally got someone, and you're on your own? That's not good enough reason to attack someone."

Hermione gaped at him. "You're even stupider than you look, aren't you?" She tried to ignore the hurt expression that flashed across his face for a few seconds, but it cut through her like a knife. She'd gone much too far, but there was no going back now. "You were supposed to go with me to Slughorn's party. And then you went and-and-"

"What's that got to do with anything?" Ron asked. He was staring at a spot on the wall behind her now, unable to look at her. She couldn't blame him after what she had said, but that didn't stop her from being so damn infuriated with him. "I could still go-"

"You were supposed to be my _date_," Hermione choked out. She wasn't sure why this was suddenly so hard, or why her throat felt like it was closing up, or how exactly her eyes had become so wet…"You were supposed to go to that party with me and-and-"

"As friends," Ron snapped. "And friends can see whoever the fuck they want to see." He crossed his arms and smirked much like he had when he'd beaten Harry at their game of chess. Was that all this was to him? Just another game? Well, she wasn't going to let him win this one. He was in the wrong and she wanted him to know it.

"No," Hermione gasped. "Ron, no. I-I was asking…I wanted you to be my date. As in a more-than-friends kind of date. You had to have known that!" He only stared. She had him now. _Check_, she said mentally. "You knew that I wanted to go with you as more than just friends. And then you went and snogged the first girl who looked at you when, if you were going to snog anyone, it-" She stopped. Too much too soon. "Well, I can't take you now if you're seeing _her_."

Ron stayed silent, taking in all she had said in her verbal explosion. Finally, he spoke up.

"You never said that."

Hermione was confused. "What? What didn't I say?"

"You never said you wanted to go as _more than friends_."

"I-what?" She racked her brains and played the moment over and over in her head. She'd said she was going to ask him…

"You should have been clearer," Ron said. "I didn't realize-"

"But you had to have known," Hermione scoffed. Then, as she surveyed his obvious smirk, she realized that he _had_ known. He had only wanted to make her say it _out loud_.

She had lost.

"Right," Ron sighed. "Well, if it then…" He turned and started his journey back to the common room, but paused. With his back still to her, he said, "You should be more direct next time. Make sure people know exactly what you mean."

And then he was gone, leaving Hermione alone in the corridor to ponder what he had said. As she sunk to the ground and let the tears that had been building free, she could hear his voice echoing in her head.

"_Checkmate."_

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><p>Reading back through, I realize this paints Ron as a bit...insensitive, to put it nicely. But I think we can say Hermione wasn't exactly acting like a princess. Anyway...<p>

Reviews turn frowns upside down! Hope you enjoyed this bit.


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